


Desert Rose

by SonjaJade



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Awkward Flirting, F/M, Pregnancy, Religious Imagery & Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-16 08:08:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 19,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2262231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonjaJade/pseuds/SonjaJade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Scar/Rose fics I've written for various communities- and just for fun.  Simply a place to put them all for the convenience of having one link to give out.  Some pieces are explicit, but each chapter will carry a full header so the reader may decide which parts to read and which to exclude.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Desert Fashion

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't realize until AFTER I'd started writing these Scar/Rose fics that Ishvala is actually a GOD and not a GODDESS. I could have SWORN that somewhere in brotherhood that the old woman Ed meets in Liore said something about Ishvala being a SHE. Anyway, I'm not changing it now, and I'm just going to keep writing it that way, I didn't want anyone to be thrown for a loop when they saw that I'd changed the deity's sex.

**Title:** Desert Fashion  
 **Author:** Sonja Jade  
 **Series:** Brotherhood  
 **Word Count:** 236  
 **Rating:** G  
 **Characters:** Rose/ Scar  
 **Summary:** Who knew a change of clothes could attract so much attention?  
 **Warnings:** post-canon, no beta  
 **Prompt:** Clothes  
  
The Amestrian Relief Corps had been in Ishval now over six months, feeding the returning refugees and workers and assisting the army in caring for the flood of people who’d returned to their homeland.  Rose enjoyed the work, adored the people (particularly the scarred monk she’d originally met in Liore the previous winter…) and spent every moment she could helping wherever she was needed.  
  
But a cooking accident nearly destroyed the last dress she owned, and there was no time to go shopping for a new one.  An Ishvalan woman brought her two sets of clothes, much too small for her now that she’d grown with the burden of her pregnancy.  The clothing was cool and comfortable and Rose was grateful, even more so when she saw the expression of her favorite monk.  
  
He wasn’t one to give his emotions up easily, so when his eyes widened and his tanned face flashed red for the briefest of moments, she decided if that’s what it took to catch his attention, then she would never go back to dressing like an Amestrian again.  
  
Not long after that, she noticed he stopped wearing his Amestrian clothes, too.  She wondered if he caught her shy smile directed at him when in the chow line…  The little grin he wore when he thanked her for the rations told her he had.  Maybe he wasn’t as stoic as he pretended to be.


	2. دبة وردة (Nodiba Warda)

**Title** : ندبة وردة (Nodiba Warda)  
 **Author** : Sonja Jade  
 **Series** : Brotherhood  
 **Word Count** : 1,532  
 **Rating** : T  
 **Character(s)** : Scar/Rose  
 **Summary** : Rose wants to know Scar’s name, but Scar throws her a curveball instead.  
 **Warnings** : Nothing really, mentions of sex but nothing graphic at all.  
 **Author's Notes** : Just having Scar/Rose feelings today.  Enjoy this little story of how Scar got the name ‘Hazim’ in my headcanon.  Also, I apologize to anyone who read or speaks Arabic.  I put ‘Scar and Rose’ into google translate and listened really close to the spoken translation of the words in order to get the title.  I don’t know if what I’ve got written is correct, but it’s certainly not meant in a disrespectful way!  HUGE thanks to my beta [](http://bay115.livejournal.com/profile)**bay115**.  
  
He smiled easier these days, perhaps because of the way he spent his evenings.  Nearly every night, he could be found dining with the last of the construction crews, in the kitchens with a young lady with pink bangs and big, dark eyes.  They talked of their days over meager rations together and put away leftovers to make breakfast with in the morning.  They washed and dried dishes side by side, chitting and chatting until the others were all gone and the streets were mostly quiet.  
  
He insisted on walking her to her tenant building, always because it was on his way to his own home at the monastery barracks. Somehow, he knew she knew there was more to it than that.  The rumors were already buzzing among the new settlers, and there was no denying the blush in her cheeks when he spoke her name, or the silly grin on his lips when she teased him about the stubble of the beard that refused to grow on his face.  
  
It had been nearly a year that he had returned to Ishval, in progress and ever growing.  Rose had only been there about five months, but they picked up where they’d left off in Liore.  He knew there was something incredibly special between them, something that had been growing and blooming since he first met her in the chilly winter the year before.  But even though he knew where their relationship was likely heading, he still had some doubts.  
  
Rose had not been raised in the strict ways of Ishvala- she was a modern Amestrian who had been romantically involved with a man already…  She’d lived with him, and he was sure they’d participated in _certain things_ while living together.  He himself had not even properly kissed a woman, let alone bedded one.  It was a sin to touch a woman intimately without marrying her.  But even if he married her, Rose had been with a man, likely more than once, and was experienced.  He had no experience whatsoever and was afraid she would be disappointed with his performance.  
  
Still, he would bear that shame if it meant he could wake up to her face every morning and fall asleep to the sound of her breath in his ears.  And he could only imagine how sweet her kisses would taste, or how her mouth would feel against his.  
  
One night, after a long day of packing up pots and pans and food for the move to another kitchen site closer to the current rebuilding, he reached down and took her hand for the first time.  His face felt hot and he was glad for the darkness to conceal his flustered cheeks.  
  
“Rose…” he began.  “Can I ask you a personal question?”  
  
She squeezed his fingers and answered, “Yes, of course.  Doesn’t mean I’ll answer, but of course, you can ask me anything!”  
  
He  swallowed, then replied, “Do you ever wonder what your life will be like in the future?  Maybe five years from now?”  
  
She turned to look at the road in front of them, a little smile playing on her mouth.  "Well, I’d like to think Ishval is finished being rebuilt.  Maybe I’ll have a little bakery of my own, maybe a house…  I never really thought about it before.”  
  
“Oh,” he responded flatly.  
  
“What about you?” she asked as they approached her building.  “What do you have planned?”  
  
He’d murdered men and fought monsters, yet he wasn’t brave enough to tell the woman he loved how he felt.  “I never really thought about it either.”  He smiled at her.  “A bakery sounds nice.”  
  
She smiled back.  “You’ll be my best customer, right?”  
  
He chuckled quietly.  “Absolutely.”  They stopped in front of her door and he awkwardly dropped her hand.  “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, almost embarrassed at having asked in the first place.  
  
Rose gave him a funny look and she asked, “Is something bothering you?  You seem tense..”  
  
He shook his head and smiled.  “Long day, that’s all.  Get some rest,” he said as he turned and waved.  She called out for him to do the same, and as he lay wide awake in his bunk, he could only remember the feel of her hands- her strength and her warmth- and praying that he would find his way on this path he and Rose were journeying down.  
  
A few days later, at the new kitchen site, he found her with a thin book written in both the glyphic characters of the Ishvalan language and the Amestrian alphabet.  
  
“What are you reading?” he asked, his voice friendly as he stole a large fig from a bucket.  
  
Rose let out a frustrated growl.  “Well, I thought if I’m going to stay in Ishval, maybe I should have a more Ishvalan name, but I can barely say any of them!  I can only read what they mean.”  She closed the book and rested it in her lap.  “What’s the Ishvalan word for ‘rose’?”  
  
“ _Warda_ ,” he answered, then chuckled as she scrunched her nose up at it.  “Don’t change your name.  It’s what makes you unique, and I like your name.”  
  
Her cheeks pinked as she dipped her head in embarrassment.  “You’re too kind, monk.”  Then she looked up at him.  “I wish you would tell me _your_ name.  It’s hard not having anything to call you besides ‘monk’.  It makes me feel like there’s all this distance between us, even though we’re so close…”  
  
“I am not the man I was when the war broke out, and I’m no longer the criminal either.  I don’t have a name anymore.”  Workers were coming off their shift and heading their direction.  He stood, grabbed an apron, and manned the stew pot.  “Here come the men,” he said, and the topic was temporarily forgotten.  
  
That night as he walked her home, Rose surprised him by taking his arm, Amestrian style, and holding him tight as they walked to her home, now further away than before.  In her other hand was the name book from that afternoon, and she said, “I’m going to read off all the names in this book, and when I get to what your mother named you, please tell me.”  
  
“Rose, I-”  
  
“Nope, I want to call you by your name, monk!  I don’t want to live the rest of my life having dreams about you and calling you ‘monk’ in them!”  
  
He stopped them in the street.  “You have dreams about me?”  
  
He felt her tense up, felt a wave of heat rush through the arm she’d looped through his…  
  
“Yes,” she whimpered.  
  
He took a deep breath and started them along the road once more.  “I have dreams of you, too.”  
  
She looked up at him, relieved and intrigued at the same time.  Then she giggled nervously.  “I’m not sure our dreams are of the same level of appropriateness.  I know mine aren’t…”  
  
“Who says mine are?”  His face was burning, but he admitted it.  He dreamed of her, often in very little clothing, their bodies pressed together and writhing as one.  It was a base desire, and he loved Rose for much more than that, but his subconsciousness wasn’t something he could control.  
  
He turned them down a dark alley and he stopped them halfway down, turned toward her and ran his free hand into her hair, hoping she didn’t find him to be too forward.  He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “My mother named me Karif, but I don’t answer to that anymore.  I don’t answer to Scar either, so why don’t _you_ give me a name.”  He could feel her trembling as he tried to discretely take in the scent of her hair.  
  
“Give you a name?” she breathed, her fingertips brushing against the skin of his throat.  
  
“Name me and I will always belong to you,” he murmured.  
  
Rose blinked at him.  “You want to belong to me?  Always?”  
  
Before he could answer, she closed the distance between them and sealed her lips over his.  He had never enjoyed the feel of a woman’s lips, but she was a patient instructor.  Her delicate hands guided him to tilt to one side, and she convinced him to open up and let her tongue touch lightly on his.  After long, dizzying minutes of her gentle caresses, he broke their first kiss to gulp air into his lungs.  
  
Her hands held his face as he breathed and she said quietly, “I will call you Hazim.  I thought it suited you when I first read its meaning- ‘severe regulator’.”  
  
“Hazim,” he replied, correcting her pronunciation.  “It’s a good name.”  
  
“And our wedding?” she asked, panting as well.  
  
“As soon as I can arrange it,” he answered, leaning down to kiss her again.  He managed to escort her at last to her apartment, where he kissed her again, not even caring to hide it at this point.  They would be married in a few days, anyway.  
  
And when he dreamed his dreams of the two of them rolling in a bed of silken sheets, she called his new name loud and clear as he satisfied her, and he smiled into his thin pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rose first pronounces Hazim in a way that rhymes with ‘chasm’. Of course, it is pronounced so it is said ‘haa-ZEEEEM’.


	3. Getting it Off His Chest

**Title:** Getting it Off His Chest  
 **Author:** Sonja Jade  
 **Series:** Brotherhood  
 **Word Count:** 2,142  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Characters:** Rose/Scar  
 **Summary:** Scar- damn it, _Hazim!_ \- wants to be certain Rose knows what he is before he goes through with marrying her.  Takes place the morning after she gives him a name and agrees to become his wife.  
 **Warnings:** Some ‘heavy petting’, but nothing graphic or gross.  
 **Author’s Notes:** I have this head canon that says Scar’s really worried that he doesn’t deserve love because of his actions while in Amestris- and also that he’s a virgin because of his faith.  Just a little playing around in my own head with some ideas that started a work and wouldn’t leave me alone.  Thank to [](http://bay115.livejournal.com/profile)[**bay115**](http://bay115.livejournal.com/) for the beta!!  
  
  
Before the sun rose, Scar- no, _Hazim_ \- was dressed, out of the barracks and already on his way back to Rose’s apartment.  He’d sworn himself to her the night before, she’d named him and claimed him… but he had to be sure of one thing before he let her go through with the marriage proposal he’d sprung on her in the moonlight.  
  
He knew the way to her home as well as he knew the way to the monastery, even knew which door was hers, though he’d never been on the staircase that led to it.  He knocked quietly, not wanting to startle her too badly.  He waited a few minutes before knocking again, a little more insistently.  This time he heard her voice from inside.  
  
“Hang on, be right there,” she mumbled in a sleepy voice he almost didn’t recognize.  He grinned at the thought of having to get used to that voice too, in addition to all the other sounds she made with her mouth…  
  
The door flung open and she rubbed her eyes.  “Monk?  What’re you doing here?”  
  
He was puzzled at why she called him that, until he realized she must not have remembered naming him having been woken from a dead sleep.  “I’m sorry to wake you, but I need to talk to you.  It’s very important, Rose.”  That seemed to clear her head and she stepped aside, wordlessly inviting him in.  
  
The place was very small.  Most of the things inside were Amestrian in nature, though there were mostly Ishvalan clothes piled onto a chair in lieu of a closet or bureau.  Her tiny kitchen consisted of a small wood stove and not much else.  He watched as she tried to smooth her hair down with one hand and readied a percolator with the other.  “You want some coffee?” she asked.  
  
He was sitting in the floor on a cushion, right beside her bed, and he could still feel her warmth in the blankets radiating out from the mattress…  “Don’t make it special for me.  I’ll have some if you’re having some.”  
  
“I _have_ to have some.  Seems my brain doesn’t wake up without it.”  Once she set it on the stove, she turned to him, clad in a dark blue robe, what he recognized as a young girl’s education jacket for the girls school that had been set up in the Kustapur district.  Someone must’ve outgrown it and sent it to her.  He thanked Ishvala she wasn’t wearing anything more revealing.  
  
“What’s wrong?” she asked, kneeling in front of him and taking his hands in hers.  “You can tell me anything- anything at all- and it will stay between us, I promise.”  
  
He reached up and held her face in his hand, watching how she closed her eyes and nuzzled against his palm and he felt all his nerves quiet down.  She whispered his new name and he took a breath.  
  
“Rose, before I can marry you, I need to be sure of one thing.”  
  
Her dark eyes opened and held his gaze.  “What is it?”  
  
He felt himself frowning and he couldn’t remember frowning in her presence before.  He didn’t like how it felt, not with her.  He closed his eyes and forced his face to relax.  When he opened them, she was giving him a soft smile.  He had to know…  
  
“You know I have blood on my hands, don’t you?”  
  
Her hand covered his, still cradling her cheek.  “Yes.  Winry told me all about you, tried her best to get me to fall out of love with you-”  
  
“Rose, I was a murderer.”  
  
The coffee pot bubbled in the silent moments between them.  Rose scooted closer to him. “I know you killed men for revenge.  War is despicable, it makes good men into monsters and you were traumatized by it.  I can see it on the faces of most of those who’ve returned to this land, missing parts of their families and some of their friends.  And I truly don’t believe you set out to murder the Rockbells.”  
  
He shook his head.  “Never.  I woke up confused, scared to death that these blue eyed people had made me into some kind of experiment when I found my brother’s arm attached to me.”  He let his hand fall away from her face.  “But I did set out to kill many more, and even tried to kill Edward Elric.  I killed a chimaera out of mercy… or at least I thought it was mercy.”  
  
Rose touched his cheek now.  “Hazim, I would trust you with my life.  I have no reason to believe you would ever hurt someone again, unless you were being threatened, and even then, I don’t think you’d kill them.  What’s this all about?”  
  
He looked her in the eye, unsure of how to phrase his words.  Rose peeked over at the percolator.  “Coffee’s ready.  How do you like it?”  
  
He swallowed, uninterested in coffee at the moment.  “Rose, would you let a murderer share the rest of your life?”  
  
Rose paused her pouring, then sat the pot down and turned to him.  “I wouldn’t let just any murderer share my life.  He would have to be repentant, aware of his past, remorseful for his actions…  If that murderer could show me that the dark part of his life was over and done, I’d share my life, my bed, my very soul with him.”  
  
“And any children we’d have?”  He searched her face for any kind of clue.  “What would you tell them?  What if they asked about it?”  
  
“I’d tell them war does bad things to good people, and that it made you do things you regret now, but believed in your heart to be the right thing to do.  Our sons and daughters will only see you as a caring father, never as a monster.”  She finished making their mugs and handed him one.  “Everyone has something in their past they’re running from.  Some are running from a debt, some from a person, in your case, and mine too, it’s events that changed our lives forever.  Happenings that seem to haunt our memories.  But the thing is, it’s _your_ past.  It belongs to you, and you can choose to share it with whomever you wish, or keep it to yourself- or give it away altogether.”  
  
He furrowed his brow.  “Give it away?”  
  
Rose nodded as she sipped her coffee.  “I was raised in Letoism, and we were taught as children that when something got too heavy to carry, when something in your life was too much to take, we were to give it up to Leto and let him handle it.  Perhaps you should give your past to Ishvala, and let her divine wisdom figure out how to handle your past.”  
  
Hazim thought that over, taking a few scalding drinks of the delicious brew in his hands.  Then he felt her small hand touching his wrist.  
  
“Is that all you were worried about?  Making sure I knew about what you’d done before I met you?  Because your face was all over the newspapers- everyone knows what you did.”  She closed her eyes as she leaned in to touch her lips to his.  She kissed him softly on the mouth, then reached into his silver hair to comb it with her fingers.  “I already knew, and I’m still here- still wanting to marry you.”  
  
Her kiss was still warm on his mouth and he told himself to remember to breathe.  “There’s one more thing…”  He swallowed thickly, embarrassed to admit his shortcomings to her, but wanting to be honest at the same time.  “I’ve never been with a woman.  I know you’ve been with a man- that doesn’t change how I feel for you, I just worry that-”  
  
“You’ll be fine,” she said, smiling.  “We’ll figure it out together and it’ll be perfect.  And we’ll have all the time in the world to practice the first week or so of our honeymoon. You’ll be an old pro before it’s over.”  
  
He reached over to pluck Rose’s mug from her hands and set both of them aside, then took her into his arms and kissed her deeply.  He felt her squirming in his grip as she settled into his lap, then felt as she took his hand in his.  “Back home, teenagers fool around with each other before they lose their virginity, anyway.  Have you ever done anything like that before?”  
  
He shook his head.  “What’s ‘fooling around’?”  
  
She chewed at her lip a moment, then said, “It would be easier to show you than to explain it.”  
  
He gave his consent and watched as she brought his hand to her lips and kissed his fingers, then his eyes widened as she uncurled them and placed his hand on her breast.  His mouth went dry at the sensation of her loose warmth in his palm, softly filling his palm and making him wonder why he never thought to touch a breast sooner.  These would someday feed his children, why would the desire to feel them cause his manhood to swell and stiffen?  
  
“Is this alright?” she asked, her hand over his, encouraging him to squeeze and explore this part of her body through her clothing.  
  
To be honest, he didn’t know if it was alright.  His faith taught him that touching a woman intimately to whom he was not married was wrong, but she was his betrothed and they would be married very soon…  And then Rose let his hand go in favor for touching his chest through his shirt- and as her fingers trailed ever lower-  
  
His breath came in quick bursts as his hips shuddered and bucked into the warm bottom that filled his lap.  He didn’t register the gasp that flew from her mouth from gripping her breast so hard until after his orgasm began to fade.  He could feel the warm stickiness in his loincloth, and could feel the heat in his cheeks as he realized what had just happened.  
  
“Was that the first time that’s ever happened?” Rose asked cautiously.  
  
Scar- _Hazim_ , damn it!- shook his head, still gulping for breath.  “First time in a long while.  First time from a woman’s touch, though.”  
  
She smiled gently at him, no admonishment in her expression at all.  “I’m glad I was able to give you that experience.”  
  
How could she be so perfect for him, he wondered.  He pressed his forehead against hers.  “I love you, Rose.”  
  
“I love you too, but you should probably clean up before that dries.”  
  
He agreed, but…  “You haven’t-”  
  
“It’s alright, I don’t need to.  You can owe me on our wedding night,” she murmured as she wrapped her arms around him.  “I don’t think-”  
  
Hazim kissed her again, softer this time.  “I’ll speak to Nasar this morning, get it arranged as soon as possible.”  
  
He needed to go wash up, but he wanted to stay with Rose, too.  Her weight in his lap was warm and wanted, her smile and scent all he ever needed he thought in the afterglow of the moment.  He hesitantly took her hand and slowly tugged it down to where she’d been when he came in his pants.  He urged her lower until she took over exploring him on her own.  When her touch reached his manhood, he forgot how to breathe as she gently felt his spent length.  Rose rested her cheek against his chest.  
  
“I can’t wait to meet him,” she said quietly as she moved off his lap and reached out for her coffee.  
  
“Me either,” replied Hazim as he carefully got to his feet.  “I’ll be back later to walk you to the kitchens.”  
  
Rose was on her knees but reached up and tugged him down to her mouth for a parting kiss.  “I’ll see you soon.”  
  
Hazim was grateful that no one was on the streets yet.  He could imagine the rumors that could start if someone had seen him leaving Rose’s apartment so early in the morning, with his underclothes full of his own seed.  
  
But he couldn’t help a nervous chuckle.  He’d said what he needed to say and Rose still accepted him, still wanted to be his wife.  And afterward- he could still feel the shape of her breast in his hand, how it felt when he tested its weight, and for lack of a better word, _squishiness_.  Hazim couldn’t wait to get cleaned up, but it was a good feeling to have had such an experience with her.  He almost felt punch drunk at the thought of it all as he watched the sun breaking over the horizon.  His steps quickened.  He wanted to get cleaned and go right away to speak with his master at the temple- he had a wedding to arrange.


	4. Once More, in Ishvalan!

**Title:** Once More, in Ishvalan!  
 **Author:** Sonja Jade  
 **Series:** Brotherhood  
 **Word Count:** 468  
 **Rating:** G  
 **Characters:** Rose/Scar (as Hazim), OC  
 **Summary:** Rose’s wedding day is nothing like she expected it to be growing up in Amestris.  Everything was perfect, and if she could just figure out how to write her name, they could get on to the reception!  
 **Warnings:** hmmm, cutting?  It’s ritualistic, not self harm. Also no beta because too close to due date.  
 **Author’s Notes:** So Scar got a new name in my head canon, a name that Rose picks for him personally, his way of asking her to marry him (“Give me a name, and I’ll belong to you always.”)  But he needed a last name.  So my dentist is from Iran and his name is Dr. Ehsani- guess what ~~Scar’s~~ Hazim’s last name is?  Also, all hail the mighty chainsaw, this fic did not want to fit.  
 **Prompt:** Sign

 

Most of Rose’s wedding had been beautifully sung prayers.  Then there were the vows themselves, led in their language which she was still struggling to fully grasp.  The Ishvalans did not exchange rings, rather it was a scarring rite.  A delicate blade was put into her hand and she was instructed to cut twice into the back of his middle right finger, at an angle, so that the flesh could be removed and the healed scar would resemble a band.  Hazim did the same to her, and their fingers were bound in blessed white linen.  
  
When the monk proclaimed them wedded at last, he asked Hazim if he’d like to kiss his bride.  He leaned forward and placed a chaste, tender kiss to her forehead, told her he loved her, and with a final round of prayers, the ceremony was over.  As their friends cheered and applauded, they were led to a small table that had been prepared with the registry documents that would be kept on file in the Temple of Ishvala and go on record at the Amestrian Records Bureau.  The Amestrian forms had been easy.  The Ishvalan one was not.  
  
The entire page was in the foreign Ishvalan script and she could read none of it, let alone sign it that way.  “Um, can I sign my name in Amestrian?”  
  
“I’m afraid it must be in Ishvalan,” the monk’s apprentice replied.  
  
She gave her husband a worried look and he squeezed her shoulder.  He asked the boy for some scrap paper and asked if he could have a moment to teach his wife her new signature.  He was handed a fine pen and two sheets of parchment from the back of the registry.  
  
Hazim effortlessly scribbled out a beautiful line of curls and dots, then pointed.  “This one is ‘Rose’, this one is ‘Ehsani’.”  
  
She frowned.  “But ‘Rose’ is so long…”  
  
He grinned. “The Ishvalan word for ‘rose’ is ‘warda’, but we don’t pronounce _your_ name that way, so we have to spell it phonetically.”  He sounded out each strange character for her, then handed her the pen.  “Try to write it.  We’ll work on reading and writing another time,” he said and he gave her a longing gaze.  
  
Each time she wrote it, it felt easier and easier.  At last, she was ready to sign her married name into the Ishvalan registry.  It was not as neat as Hazim’s but what could she expect for having just learned it five minutes prior?  
  
Everything was official, now.  She and Hazim smiled at each other as she took his hand and went out into the bright sunshine.  Their friends clapped and whistled as they made their way to their new home, where a celebration feast waited.  Her new life had begun, and she couldn’t be happier.


	5. Lessons in Lovemaking

**Title:** Lessons in Love Making  
 **Fandom:** Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood **  
Author:** Sonja Jade  
 **C** **hars/Pairs:** Rose/Scar  
 **Genres:** PWP, vanilla  
 **Warnings:** het sex  
 **Word Count:** 666  
 **Summary:** Before Scar married Rose, he was a virgin.  Rose was not, however, and she decides to teach her new husband all he should know.  
 **Prompt:**  Rare pair  
 **Author's Notes:** Big thanks to my beta [](http://bay115.livejournal.com/profile)[**bay115**](http://bay115.livejournal.com/).

 

 

"Remember,” Rose said as she straddled her husband’s hips, “tell me if you feel like you’re going to come.”

Scar nodded, heart racing and face on fire.  Their first time together- _his first time_ \- was awful.  He’d barely slipped inside her before he was a trembling, apologetic mess.  But ever since then, Rose seemed to know what the problem was and she’d been working with him to make sure he never performed that badly again.

Her body was warm and tight around his throbbing cock, and his eyes narrowed as she began to ride him.  His breath seemed to rush in and out of his chest, though he was hardly moving at all.  Eventually, they found their rhythm and began to rock against each other, and Scar’s hands coasted up her thighs to hold her waist.

“You’re really not that bad at this,” Rose smiled down at him as she tugged his palms to her breasts.  “Just remember to slow down and take your time.”

Suddenly, he gasped, “Rose, stop!”  He could feel it coming on, just enough time to tell her so.  She knew what he meant immediately and she stilled her hips, and instead rubbed her fingers near where they were joined.  While she teased herself, Scar refocused himself into a calmer state and staved off his orgasm.  When he was sure he was alright, he cradled Rose’s ass and used his hands to move her body.

“I’m alright now,” he breathed.

“Very good,” she panted before leaning down and kissing him.  Scar rolled them in the bed, and now he was on top of her.  She placed her legs over his shoulders  and said, “Go as hard and as fast as you can.  I have a feeling you’ll last quite a while this time.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, already worried about coming before her.

She nodded, adding, “And come hard for me, Hazim.  I want to try for a child…”

He captured her lips, his new name still strange in his ears.  He began to make long thrusts, starting out slow but going as deep as he could without hurting her.  It wasn’t long before her fingernails scraped down his biceps and the sound of her quiet moans filled their bedroom.   He moved faster and was surprised he wasn’t already filling her to the brim.  Apparently he was doing something right, because her dark eyes were closed and she whispered for more…

And then he did it- she gasped, seemed to hold her breath, and then her internal fist squeezed him, her interior rippled around his length and her body shook in his grip.

“Coming!” she squeaked, her fingernails digging deep into his skin.

“R-really?”  He wasn’t sure what to do-he’d never made her come this way before.  Should he stop and watch her or keep going?  He merely slowed a little, but she demanded he resume his pace.

“Yes, yes!” she answered.  “Now _you_ come!  Please!”

Scar felt his face heating in embarrassment at her words, but he could feel the twinge of his orgasm beginning in his balls and he wanted to give his wife what she was beseeching him for.  He went faster, his hands at her breasts and squeezing, his mouth on hers and stroking her tongue with his.

At last, his sack tightened up and he could feel his seed rising from the depths of his body to pool in Rose’s womb…  He shoved himself deep into her once, twice, and emptied himself into her waiting body, growling as he did so.  He felt her give a couple of squeezes in response and he hissed as he withdrew from her.

“That was perfect, honey,” she breathed.  “You were wonderful.”

He gathered her up into his arms and laid them on their sides.  “I had a very patient teacher.”

Rose chuckled.  “Only took you seven times to get it right.”

“See? Old dogs _can_ learn new tricks!” he grinned.

They shared a kiss before sleep claimed them both.


	6. Tanned Pink

**Title:** Tanned Pink  
 **Author:** Sonja Jade  
 **Series:** Brotherhood  
 **Word Count:** 2,407  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Characters:** Rose/Scar (as Hazim)  
 **Summary:** Scar's confidence in the bedroom has definitely improved over the three weeks they've been married.  A bit of information gathered from eavesdropping on Amestrian soldiers plants a new idea into his head, and he surprises Rose with a gift he's not even sure he's qualified to give.  
 **Warnings:** post-canon  
 **Author's Notes:** Big huge thanks to my beta, sammyquill, who taught me some arabic terms of endearment to help give the 'verse some authenticity.  “Jaan” means “life” and couples usually call each other that, as in “you are my life”.

 

The flat they’ve chosen as their home is plenty big to start a family in, and they’re both very pleased with the location. It’s close to the monastery, close to the current location of the Amestrian Relief Corps kitchens, and the design of the building means they only have to worry about their downstairs neighbor being disturbed by them. Thankfully, they live above a deaf old man and his aging sister-which affords them plenty of privacy in their new living space.

They’ve only been married three weeks now, and Hazim is still getting used to his new life. As much of a delight as Rose was before they married, she’s even more lovely, even more wonderful now that they’ve joined their lives together. Their new home is so much cozier than his thin cot at the monastery, larger than Rose’s tiny quarters with the miniscule kitchen. And the things he’s discovered about the female body and sex in general- his mind still reels with the memories of _finally_ unlocking his new wife’s secrets and making her pant his name to the heavens.

He’s still getting used to simply going to bed every night with her. Rose often heats a kettle of water on the stove and wipes the grit and grime from her body while standing on a towel in the kitchen to catch the drips. She applies a little oil to the damp wash cloth and rubs it into her tanned skin, to keep it soft but to also give it a delicate scent, and then washes her hair with the leftover water, taking pains to rinse it carefully so she doesn’t need extra water.

Afterward, Rose wraps herself in a thin robe and braids her long, dark brown hair into a thick rope and lies down in their bed. She waits until he joins her to sing her nightly prayers with him (a recent convert to the ways of Ishvala, she’s still unsure of the words and tunes of the prayers), and then Hazim blows out the lamps.

He reaches for her, at first only to stroke her arm or perhaps her cheek. He holds her and tells her how much he loves her and how grateful he is to be her husband. Only when Rose turns her head and kisses him, guides his fingers to the edges of her robe, does he dare to untie and unwrap his bride.

Hazim pulls the fabric gently away from her soft curving hips to reveal her body to him. The moonlight spilling through the open window bathes her in a silvery blue glow, turning her caramel colored skin to slate in the night. Her peculiar pink hair becomes violet, but her dark eyes remain the same- lidded, sensual, speaking louder than either of their voices ever will.

His hands- the starlight coloring them dark as iron- gently roam from her shoulder, down her ribs, and over her hip and back. His wife draws a leg up and open and he can’t mistake the action as anything other than an invitation. He licks his lips and brings his fingertips to her pebbled nipples, as she’s instructed him to do in the past. When Rose sighs and her head lolls toward his chest, he takes it as a victory and throws himself into enjoying the act that he’s only recently mastered.

Their first time- _his first time_ \- Rose had been completely in charge. He had no idea how to proceed, where to begin, where to even put his length. It had been an extremely awkward lesson in the most sacred workings of the human body with an edge of desire, and once having learned enough to start their encounter, he was already on the edge of exploding. He quickly slipped into Rose’s warmth and gave two good thrusts before he was spent and apologizing to her. His heart plummeted into his stomach at the thought of his brand new wife berating him over his poor performance. But Rose had kissed him, reassured him that he would get better, and told him they could try again in a little while. The second time was much better, he lasted much longer, but he couldn’t figure out how to give her the same experience she’d given him. _That_ had taken much longer than one night to learn. But now, he’s much more confident in his skills. He can make himself last, he can make love to Rose in way that pleases them both, and tonight he has something new he wants to try.

His lips met her fragrant skin, leaving kisses and little nibbles in his wake. Eventually, he wriggles down her body enough that he can massage her breast and bring it to his mouth. Her soft hiss and the way she arches her back lets him know he’s doing something right. He looks up at her face, her cheeks a bit darker than before.

“Is this good?” he asks quietly as his tongue swirls around her tightened skin.

Rose hums an affirmative. Her delicate fingers move into his hair to softly nudge him back to her bosom. Hazim closes his eyes and suckles diligently, listening for her breathy cues. Despite having touched himself in the latrine as she bathed to relieve some of the pressure of his duty, he can feel himself growing aroused at how Rose reacts to him. It makes him happy to know he can bring her such physical bliss, despite his inexperience.

“That feels so good,” Rose whispers.

It’s hard to keep from smiling at her compliment. His chest swells with pride and he knows he can’t keep his surprise from her much longer.

He continues to lick and lave at her peak, hollowing his cheeks as he sucks there and bringing his fingertips up to tease the other side as he does so. He’s beginning to learn her scent when she’s ready for him, when her soft insides are becoming slick and silky. That’s when he knows it’s time to amaze her.

He rolls to his hands and knees overtop her, and not aware he’s up to something, Rose draws her legs back and spreads wide for him. He moves back a few paces, then flattens out on his belly. He tugs her knees over his shoulders, parts her damp seam with his nose, and lets his tongue touch her wet folds.

“Ha-Hazim!” she cries out in a clear voice, half sitting up.

He says nothing, only does as he’s overheard a couple of Amestrian soldiers talk about earlier that day. He lets the tip of tongue touch and taste every surface he can seek out. She smells like sex to him, tastes tangy and salty, and feels smooth as fresh butter. His growing erection throbs with every new flavor he discovers in this most sacred part of her body.

His tongue traces upward, where the folds seem to join into a single point, and once he touches there, Rose’s cries become immediately louder and more insistent.

“Yes, there! Oh yes, please don’t stop!”

Hazim growls as he presses his mouth harder against her body. He experiments with different movements until he figures out which she likes best. Both her hands are fisted in his hair and he obeys her every command as she pants them out to him.

The soft dark curls that guard her femininity tickle his face and nose but he doesn’t care. He’ll see that she’s given a thorough once over until she clenches tight in orgasmic release. Even if it takes him all night, he’ll gladly send her spinning toward the stars with pleasure. Thankfully, because of his precise listening skills and attention to detail, it isn’t long before Hazim has licked her right into a quivering climax.

Rose’s body jerks against him, her breath comes in choked gasps, but her fingers remain gentle in his hair. Hazim can’t help a low groan against her as she shakes, and when she’s capable of speaking, she cries out to Ishvala.

“Oh, God! How did you learn _that_ trick?” she manages finally as her dark eyes flutter open, glassy and dazed as she comes back to earth.

Hazim grins at her. “Eavesdropping. Seems I heard a bit of good information.”

She laughs breathlessly. “You have no idea!”

“Are you alright?” he asks as he moves upward along her body, dropping soft kisses along her belly and through the valley of her heaving breasts.

She nods, letting him part her legs as he positions himself between them. He kisses her forehead and whispers, “Good, because I’m not finished with you.”

“I sure hope not, dear husband,” she replies as she demands he kiss her mouth. Hazim assumed she would be offended by the taste of her own fluids, but it’s actually the opposite. The intensity of _this_ kiss is something he hasn’t experienced yet with her… He’s happy that she’s enjoyed his experiment so well, and makes a mental note to be sure to give her that kind of pleasure whenever he can.

He pulls back from her, his own breath now coming quicker. “My turn, jaan.” He teases her warm folds with his tip a little, using it to diddle at that place where they all join above her opening. Rose flops backwards into the bed and reaches down to grab her knees and pull her legs back.

“Oh, please…” she groans desperately.

He aims for her opening and pushes his hips forward, siding into her heat. He closes his eyes and allows himself to concentrate on the sensation of being warmly enveloped by her tender body, how she ripples around his length and whispers quiet curses as he fills her completely.

“You’re incredible,” he murmurs as he gently touches the mouth of her womb. “So amazing…” he rumbles, opening his eyes as his big hand cradles her face.

She gazes at him, her face so young in the moonlight. “Plant a baby in my belly,” she says quietly, her hand covering his against her cheek. “Let’s grow our family tree…”

Hazim knows how badly she wants to be a mother, and it is his honored and treasured duty to make her one. They’ve been trying… maybe tonight will be the night?

“I’ll do my best, I swear to you.”

He begins to thrust in and out of her, slowly at first. Though Rose is no stranger to lovemaking, she’d told him (at Hazim’s insistence) that he was quite large in comparison to her last and only lover. While she craves this particular attention from his body, it doesn’t mean she can take him pounding recklessly into her immediately after insertion. One day, of course she could, but they haven’t even been married a month yet. Sometimes these things take time, Hazim knows that much at least. But then-

“Mmm, more!” she groans, startling him. “Harder, faster- come inside me, jaan!”

Now _that-_ that’s the most erotic thing he’s ever heard come out of her mouth. How can he not obey her command?

“Harder?” he asks as he puts a little more force and speed into his movements. “Faster? Don’t tell me you’re this wanton after a little licking, my sweet flower…”

Rose’s reaction is immediate. Her voice comes in clear cries and not the muffled little mewls and moans he’s used to her making. Her nails rake from his biceps down his forearms, and he hisses in a most appreciative way when her legs wrap around his middle.

“Don’t stop!” she pants as her head twists from side to side on her pillow.

“I won’t!” he growls in response. His movements are becoming desperate, his rhythm beginning to falter just a bit. He knows he’s getting close, but something just… He has an idea.

He slows down a little, much to Rose’s dismay. “Can we try it a different way?” he asks.

Rose blinks, then her face lights up. “Of course! We can do it any way you want!”

“Can you get on your hands and knees? Like you’re crawling?”

She answers by doing just that, arching her back and tilting her hips up perfectly to meet his. His big hands gently land on her rump and he squeezes a plush cheek. “You’re so smart, so beautiful…”

“Put it back in, please!” Rose begs. “Show me what you’ve got!”

He rumbles his approval as he resumes his task, building quickly back to the pace he’d been at before he stopped them. He grabs her damp braid and gently pulls- Rose groans and Hazim can feel the fluttering of her insides around his manhood. She likes that, apparently. He holds her length of bound hair tightly in his hand as he concentrates on chasing down his orgasm.

He’s nearly there, can feel his balls drawing up against him again when she seizes up around him, clamping down on him as she shudders with another release. She praises him and calls him every endearment she has for him. Once she finally relaxes a bit, she reaches back and lets her fingertips brush the skin of his thigh as he moves quickly inside her.

“Give it to me, Hazim!”

He closes his eyes, grits his teeth, and shoves himself as deep as he can go. When his essence splashes against her insides, he feels it. He grinds against her soft ass, reaching under her to squeeze her breast. He can feel her clenching rhythmically, milking him for every drop and panting about how warm his seed is and how the heat is an indicator of its strength.

“You’ll sire a son tonight for sure,” she insists, clamping down on him in an effort to keep him inside her as long as possible. He doesn’t mind. If he was permanently sentenced to fill her body this way, he would enjoy every single second of their conjoining. He wraps his arm around her waist and rolls to his side, still buried inside her body.

“Do you think we can sleep this way?” he asks, flexing his hips and forcing his rapidly wilting length deeper inside.

“Mmm, I don’t know,” Rose hums, “but it’s going to be wonderful trying to find out.”

“I think so, too,” he whispers, kissing her temple. “I love you so much, Rose.”

“I love you too, Hazim.”

He carefully pulls a blanket over them, and they sleep joined together until the moon and stars move, leaving their bedroom in darkness.


	7. Bursting at the Seams

**Title** : Bursting at the Seams  
 **Author** : Sonja Jade  
 **Series** : Brotherhood  
 **Word Count** : 829  
 **Rating** : Mostly G but T toward the end  
 **Character(s)** : Scar (as ‘Hazim’)/Rose, some OCs  
 **Summary** : A local accident leaves several families homeless and the newlywed monk and his wife open their doors…  
 **Warnings** : I’ve been in their position too many times to count…  
 **Author's Notes** : I really hate this.  I can’t make my words do what I want and I can’t seem to get the right feel to come out but I didn’t want to go 2 weeks in a row without an entry.  And I don’t like calling Scar by this other name, but I really think he wouldn’t go by Scar anymore.  Thanks to [](http://bay115.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://bay115.livejournal.com/)**bay115** who puts up with me and my beta requests lol  
 **Prompt:** Castle

 

Written over the door of the Ishvalan monastery was an ancient saying: “The farmer who shares his crops freely shall never know hunger, the trader who shares his coin with the poor shall never know poverty, the king who shares his castle with the love of his people instead of the love of his station shall never be forgotten in the eyes of Ishvala.”  The tall monk who bore the X-shaped scar across his face surely hoped the latter was true as he surveyed the sitting room of his cramped home.   
  
He and Rose had only been married about a month at most when a tenant complex on the eastern side of the Jafula district collapsed the day after it was declared safe for residency, leaving eight families suddenly without housing.  No one was hurt, but it fell to the warm hearts of other established families to take in those who had no home until the building could be rebuilt.  The order of warrior monks were first to volunteer their homes open to those who needed shelter, but unfortunately for Hazim and Rose, they got the largest of the eight families- the Yasirah clan that consisted of a father, mother, grandmother, and five children.  
  
The father and oldest son were at the construction site from dawn until dusk, helping the crews to rebuild as quickly as possible so as to shorten the length of their burden on their hosts.  The mother, grandmother and oldest daughters cooked and cleaned while they insisted Rose lounge about and do nothing apart from keep them entertained with stories of growing up in Amestris.  The remaining children, a pair of twin boys, were only six months old and just learning to sit up alone.  
  
While the monk was grateful for their helpfulness, he told them it was too much.  “It is my honor to open my home to those who have no home,” he’d said with a smile over their third night all together.  “For as long as you’re here, this is your home as well.”  
  
Of course, that was nearly seven weeks ago.  The Yahirah family had been living with them longer than they’d even been married.  And alone time was extremely hard to come by when you were sharing a two bedroom flat with eight other people.  Even his sweet Rose was starting to snap at others because of the growing frustration of not having any privacy.  The Yasirahs started to get a little stir crazy and anxious as well concerning the completion of the tenant building.  
  
At long last, after a grueling week at the construction site, the building was finished and was scheduled to be inspected by the Amestrian Corps of Engineers to be sure this building wouldn’t fall as the other one had (which had been inspected by a private Ishvalan contractor).  The patriarch of the family told everyone at dinner that night that so long as the engineers approved the building, they could be moving out in as little as two days time.  
  
Hoping he didn’t appear too overjoyed by the news, Hazim sang a prayer over the meal asking for the safety and competency of the engineers, and the quick decision of the foremen.  Thankfully, Ishvala hadn’t forgotten about them, and she rewarded the monk and his wife for their graciousness and patience- the building was declared hospitable and safe, and the Yasirah clan was out before the end of the week.  
  
“Thank you so much for everything you have given us,” the father said as he bowed low, his hands clasped together.  “If you should need anything, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask.”  
  
“It was no trouble,” Rose smiled.  “Good luck in your new home!”  
  
They waved goodbye to them as they rolled a large cart down the dusty road to the new building, and after a while, Hazim closed the door and they went inside.  No sooner had the monk bolted the door, Rose had wrapped herself around him, nibbling at his lip and guiding his hands to cradle her bottom.  
  
“I’ve been waiting for this for weeks,” she panted, in between his kisses.  He squeezed her bottom and she groaned deliciously near his ear.  “Take me to bed, right this minute,” she pleaded.  
  
“I don’t know if I’ll make it that far,” he answered as he climbed the steps two at a time.  
  
“Then on the rug at the top of the stairs!”  
  
Rose didn’t have to twist his arm too much for that.  Afterward, when they were sweaty and sticky in all the right places, she mused aloud as they drifted in the afterglow, “It feels empty without them here.”  
  
“Then maybe we should concentrate on filling our home with more people,” Hazim rumbled in his deep voice.  
  
Rose’s tiny hand wormed down his body- seeking, teasing and with intent to awaken.  “Maybe you’re right.”  
  
He rolled her to her back and smiled as he kissed her neck.  “Sometimes I am.”


	8. Divinations and Predictions

**Title:** Divinations and Predictions.  
 **Author/Artist:** Sonja Jade  
 **Fandom:** Fullmetal Alchemist  
 **Characters/Pairings:** Rose/Scar, OC  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters within this story based on the series Hiramu Arakawa  
 **Summary/Teaser:** Rose sees the midwife for the first time about the baby she just found out she’s carrying.  
 **Rating:** PG (for pregnancy stuff)  
 **Word Count:** 1,647  
 **Author's Note:** Throughout the fic, I refer to Scar as 'Scar', but when Rose addresses him, she's not going to call him that.  So there's one mention of the name I gave him at the end, just didn't want you to get confused when you see the name 'Hazim', which means 'severe regulator' in Arabic (or so the baby name site says...)

 

It was the first time Rose had met with the Ishvalan midwife, an ancient woman who seemed to be so bent over that birthing babies was the only profession left to her.  Her name was Nagila, and she hobbled around her sitting room with a short stubby looking cane.

“Any idea when you came with child, dear?” she asked as she brewed a special tea meant for discerning the future of the pregnancy.

Rose’s cheeks pinked.  “Um, I’m not for certain when exactly.  Certainly between September twelfth and October fourteenth.”

“Ahh, a busy couple indeed!  When two people love each other emotionally, the physical act is a blessing and a virtue.  Only when it’s forced upon one or the other is it a sin.  No need to feel embarrassed,” Nagila grinned.  The old woman gathered up more things and placed them on a makeshift altar.  “Any cramping before the fourteenth?”  She took a golden chain from around her neck and placed it on a colorful silk scarf.

“About a week before, a few days before I would normally feel cramps,” Rose replied, thankful for the change of subject.  She listened as Nagila explained that the cramping usually came about a week after the conception, which would have put the beginning of her pregnancy right around October first.

“You can expect to be a mother as early as the end of June of the beginning of July.  Is this your first baby?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh, blessings upon you, dear!” Nagila smiled.  “You’ll never forget this experience, Rose.  And that husband of yours won’t forget either.  This is such a sacred time for you both.”  She sighed.  “I’ve been delivering Ishvalan children for decades, but over the past few years, they’ve been born in secret.  It’s nice that your child, despite being of mixed heritage, will be born right here in Ishval.  And you’ll be having the first of the warrior monks’ children!  Jaalan and his wife are trying, but no luck yet.”

Rose laughed.  “We weren’t trying at all and look what happened!”

“Often that’s the secret, dear.  When you put your faith in Ishvala and realize _she_ will give you what you want when _she’s_ ready to give it, life is much easier and less stressful.”  She stood up and brought the hot tea kettle to a short, silver rimmed clay cup and poured water over the carefully piled leaves of tea.  “Don’t drink this one, dear.  This one is for divination.”

Rose waited until she’d been given a cup of drinkable tea.  It was very mild, but flavorful stuff.  “This is delicious,: she remarked as she drank more.

“It will settle your stomach and calm your nerves.  Sometimes pregnant women are overemotional and anxious during the time their sickness is raging within them.  This special tea will safely combat those things without hurting the babe inside.”  She tittered and said quietly, “You should also be sure to tell your husband to be gentle with his lovemaking, lest he shake the poor thing loose from your womb.”

Rose choked on her tea.  She sputtered and coughed as Nagila handed her a clean rag to wipe her mouth with.  The old woman had overheard at the water well that Scar had given her shaking orgasms, evidenced in Rose’s voice as it floated through the wall of her apartment to her neighbors’ ears.

Rose frowned into her lap.  “M-my apologies, Nagila.  I had no idea they heard-”

“As I said before, the act of love is a blessing and a virtue.  You just happened to share your blessings inadvertently.”  She drank down the rest of her tea, then took the silver rimmed cup in her gnarled hands.  “Spit in it, dear.”

Rose’s brows knitted in confusion.  “Spit in it?”

“It’s for the divination, sweetie.  Your saliva will make the tea predict things based upon you and your baby.”

Rose leaned over and spit into the cup, then Nagila swirled the liquid around and around in the cup.  When the tea lapped up onto the silver rim, she flipped the mug upside down onto a bleached linen diaper.

“When the sun goes down, I’ll lift the cup and read the leaves, but not a moment before dusk.  Otherwise it’s bad luck for both of you.”  She turned to the altar like space on the nearby table.  “But let’s see what we can do right now…”

She lifted the chain and instructed Rose to lie down on the floor, flat on her back.  On the end of the chain was a perfect gold band, what Rose thought of as a wedding ring, but what she knew in Ishvalan culture was a prayer ring.  Nagila instructed her, “Take three deep breaths, then hold the last one while you imagine yourself holding your baby the day it’s born.”

Rose did as she said, and as she held her breath, she daydreamed of a tiny baby with a round, squished up face, sleeping peacefully as Scar held them both in his big arms.  She could see the baby’s face as if she were peeking into the future- high cheekbones like her husband, but soft eyes like her.  Tiny, full lips, a rounded little nose…

“Alright, let’s move on to the next test, dear.”

Rose was a little startled at her voice, but she sat up and got back into her chair.

“Have you noticed your feet being colder?” Nagila asked as she knelt down and lifted Rose’s skirt to examine her legs.

“No, not at all.”

“Oh, you shave your legs…” Nagila remarked with a bit of surprised.  Ishvalan women didn’t shave _anything_ , but to Rose, some customs were not going to be given up.  Shaving her legs and plucking her eyebrows were the only Amestrian customs she refused to give up.

“Are you having to shave more often?”

“No, not that I’ve noticed.”

Nagila’s old fingers skimmed over her smooth legs, as if in awe of feeling just skin on a grown woman’s leg.  Then she asked, “Any headaches?”

Rose shook her head.  “Is everything going to be okay?” she asked nervously.

“I’m just trying to determine if you’re having a boy or a girl, dear.  And we will do all these tests again in a few weeks when your wee one has had a chance to really settle in.”  She got to her feet after a little help from Rose, and she looked out the window.  “Still not time yet to read the leaves…  Tell me, what do you feel you’re having?  Sometimes a mother just knows these things.”

Rose smiled softly at the old woman.  “I think it’s a girl.  Since I found out I was pregnant, I’ve had dreams about a baby girl.”

Nagila nodded.  “All my questions have the same answer.  But as I said, your womb had just quickened.  In a few weeks we can do the tests again to see if anything has changed.  And in the meantime, watch your husband.  If he starts gaining weight as well, it’s a girl, and if you begin to crave sweets it’s a girl.  At the midway point we’ll do a garlic test.”

“And the tea leaves?” Rose asked.

“Those will tell us about your pregnancy overall.  If you’ll have a smooth or rough nine months, if you’ll be sick for just a little while or for the entire time…  Those kinds of things, as well as gender can be revealed.”  She leaned in close, her breath smelling like spearmint that grew wild in her garden.  “My predictions on the sex have been very accurate.  I’ve only gotten four wrong in over two hundred births.”

Rose nodded.  “I see.  And,” she said as she looked out the window, “sunset has arrived.”

Nagila turned and looked, too.  “So it has.”  She hobbled to her kitchen and pulled out a brown colored candle and sang an Ishvalan prayer before lighting it with a the flame of her own hearth.  She brought the candle over to the altar space and placed her old hand on the special tea cup.  “It’s important to light this candle from the home fire, to show that this baby will always be well taken care of in a home with a loving family.”

As soon as the last hues of gold faded from the sky, she lifted the cup from the diaper and peered over the tea leaves.  “You’ll have a hard time with the baby sickness.  While you won’t catch a single cold, you’ll be nauseous nearly every day.   You’ll have no trouble sleeping though, and no trouble with blemishes.  It looks like other than the sickness, you’re going to have a very smooth pregnancy, giving birth in the first rays of dawn… to a baby girl.”  Nagila smiled at her.  “It’s a girl, Rose.  Go and tell your husband everything is alright and that I will check you in a few weeks.”

Rose felt tears rolling down her face.  “Thank you so much, Nagila.  Thank you.”

The old woman patted her shoulder.  “It’s my duty to tend to new mothers.  Think nothing of it.”  She handed her a sack of the special tea with instructions on how to brew it, and Rose walked back to her home, her feet hardly touching the ground.  She opened the door and Scar nearly ran to her.

“Is everything alright?  When will it be born?”

“It’s a girl,” she answered, beaming.  “We’re going to have a daughter, Hazim.”

He took her into his arms and squeezed her gently.  “We’ve been truly blessed by Ishvala herself,” he rumbled into her hair as she cried grateful tears on his shoulder.  “I’ve been given two beautiful girls to look after, despite the blood on my hands.  I can’t believe my good fortune.”

“Let’s pray together after dinner tonight,” Rose sniffled as she pulled away.  “The long prayer.”

“Yes,” answered her husband.  “We will.”


	9. Over Still Waters

**Title:** Over Still Waters  
 **Author:** Sonja Jade  
 **Series:** Brotherhood  
 **Word Count:** 445  
 **Rating:** G/E  
 **Characters:** Rose/Scar (as Hazim)  
 **Summary:** The new Ishval has a special way to honor the people of their race and their goddess.  A mistake leads to a miracle, and Rose bears witness to it.  
 **Warnings:** no beta?  
 **Author’s Notes:** I have no idea what I’m doing  
 **Prompt:** Bridge

 

In Liore, there had been a very old, very ornate bridge that crossed a manmade lake that was built to look like a river.  It ‘flowed’ between Market Street and Main Street, and though there were several bridges that crossed it, the one in the center had been hand carved from old veined marble brought back from the ruins of Xerxes.  It was older than her grandfather, if he’d been living.  When the uprising consumed the city, it was destroyed.  In fact, it hadn’t even crossed Rose’s mind until recently.  
  
In Ishval, there were no real rivers either, but there were aqueducts and other irrigation ditches.  They were simpler out in the farmland, but in the interior districts, there were bridges aplenty.  The ones in the Dalhia district all represented clans that had been annihilated in the extermination- clans for whom there were no survivors.  They were painted with the colors of their sashes and many people said a prayer when they passed over them.  In Linai, the bridges reflected the surviving clans.  In Kustapur, all of them bore passages from Book of the Law, the holiest book among the Ishvalans.  
  
One afternoon, while she was crossing one of the bridges in Dalhia to bring her husband and the other monks a surprise snack of almond sesame balls, she witnessed a miracle.  
  
A young man and his wife were crying on the bridge, and several people had stopped to see what was the matter.  The man looked up into the faces surrounding him, his arms around his pregnant bride and cried out, “These colors belong to my family!  We are not gone yet!”  
  
As it turned out, their family had fled to the southern isles of Aerugo and he and his young wife had been the only ones who wanted to return.  He said there were more families living there, that not all of them had died out.  
  
Rose said a prayer of thanks, patting her pregnant belly, and hurrying on to the temple.  When she told them what had happened, they immediately gave thanks to Ishvala, and then tried to decide how to honor the living family when their colors were on a bridge meant to honored the dead.  
  
“Ishvala shielded them from harm,” Rose mused aloud as the men ate the snacks she brought.  “Perhaps there’s a way to shield the bridges?”  
  
A few weeks later, the bridges painted with the colors of living families were covered, now shaded with a bright canvas bearing the temple seal.  Rose was happy to see more and more of those bridges being covered.  By the time their daughter was born, more than half of them were.


	10. The Journey of Hanai

**Title:** The Journey of Hanai  
 **Author/Artist:** Sonja Jade  
 **Fandom:** Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood  
 **Characters/Pairings:** Scar/Rose, Maj. Miles  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters within this story based on the series by Hiramu Arakawa  
 **Summary/Teaser:** Scar teaches Rose and Miles about Ishvalan winter solstice traditions.  
 **Rating:** G  
 **Word Count:** 892

 

It was their second winter in Ishval.  Life there had finally settled down since the withdrawal of most of the Amestrian army.  Scar had been appointed head of the warrior monks and Col. Miles had been appointed Prime Minister until elections could be organized.  With Mustang’s help, they would be having nominations after the first of the year, and Ishvala willing, the elections would be held a few days before the Midsummer feast of Kalaarhi.  But that would be six months in the future.  Tonight, Scar was celebrating at home with his wife and friend an Ishvalan holiday known as Hanai Yomel-Eid - or the Feast of Hanai.

“Is this right?” Rose asked as she showed Scar the potato shavings she was coating the lamb chops in.

“Yes, just like that.  Then they go into the oil for length of time it takes to say the Ishvalan sun prayer.”  He smiled at her when she made a disappointed face.  He knew she wasn’t very familiar with all the prayers, despite her best efforts to convert to his faith.  “It’s about three minutes,” he whispered.

“Thank you, dear,” she replied as her frown lifted.

“So this is the first night of the feast?” Miles asked as he sipped at rooibos tea.

Scar took a seat upon one of the large cushions that ringed a low dining table.  “Yes.  It celebrates the journey the prophet Hanai made into the Great Desert.  At that time, it is said that the City of God was in chaos.  Its people were turning their hearts away from goodness and embracing the evil in the world.  There were riots and beatings, thieves and murderers were everywhere, and the women and children were causing as much violence as the men.”

“What caused them to act so badly?” asked Rose, who was now on to making a kind of bean paste as she listened.

“The people decided they wanted to see Ishvala come down from the heavens and show her face to them, and they figured the only way to get her to come down would be to act as atrociously as possible.”

“And that’s when Hanai went into the desert?”  Miles inquired.

“Indeed.”  Scar had talked with his friend a while back, asking if he’d ever explored the deeper sides of his part Ishvalan heritage.  When he said he hadn’t, the warrior had been eager to share their people’s traditions with him.  “Hanai had warned them that to invoke Ishvala’s anger would only lead to their complete decimation, but the people didn’t care, so he fled into the desert for ten days.  On the fifth day he was in the desert, Ishvala came to him as he fasted in prayer and asked him what he thought she should do with the people.  Hanai loved many of those who were losing their minds back in the city, so he didn’t want them to be needlessly killed, but he didn’t feel they should be rewarded with the face of Ishvala either.  So he asked Ishvala to take the sun out of the sky until they came to their senses.”

“Ah, I see.  And that’s why we begin the feast on the longest night of the year,” Miles nodded.  “It’s in remembrance of the time that Ishvala took the sun from the sky.”

“Exactly.  When Hanai returned, he told the people what happened, as they were now in a panic because the sun had been missing for five days.  He told them Ishvala couldn’t show her face to them, that none of them were worthy of the vision, and that her punishment was to make it so they’d never see anything without lamp oil or torchlight again.  The people repented immediately, and the sun rose on the City of God once more.  Ishvala had forgiven her wayward children and Hanai was venerated as a messenger of god.”

The sound of oil frying floated to his ears.  That meant dinner would soon be ready.  “Do you need any help, Rose?”

“No, I’m alright.  Just a few more minutes!” she called from their tiny kitchen.

Miles watched her from where they sat, her compact baby bump just visible through the Ishvalan style tunic she wore.  “She’s adapted quite well.  She’ll make a great mother.”

Scar smiled as he looked upon his Amestrian wife as well.  “On Hanai Yomel-Eid, we’re reminded to count our blessings, even the little ones, as great gifts from Ishvala.  And the two greatest gifts I have are right there in my kitchen.”  He got up to help her bring the serving dishes to the table, and once they were all seated, he sang a prayer over the meal.

Just as he was about to dig in to the lamb chops, Miles raised his tea cup.  “I don’t know if it’s appropriate, but I’d like to make a toast.”  Scar nodded and raised his cup, as did Rose.

“To blessings, big and small, and may we all be reminded on this longest night of the year how lucky we are to have friends and family who make the night seem a little shorter.”

Scar felt a smile grow on his face.  “Yes, to blessings.”  They swallowed their commemorative drink as he rested his hand on Rose’s stomach, and Scar couldn’t have felt more blessed than he did at that very moment.


	11. A Culinary Conspiracy

**Title** : A Culinary Conspiracy  
 **Author** : Sonja Jade  
 **Series** : Brotherhood  
 **Word Count** : 487  
 **Rating** : G  
 **Character(s)** : Rose, Winry, implied Ed/Win and ScaRose  
 **Summary** : Through the power of letters, Rose teaches Winry how to make a hearty Ishvalan breakfast for Ed, whose enormous appetite hasn’t seemed to lessened after the Promised Day.  
 **Warnings** : No beta because I'm under the wire  
 **Author's Notes** : Remember, Scar doesn’t go by the name Scar anymore.  Rose named him Hazim when he asked her to marry him (at least in my head canon he did…)  
 **Prompt:** Crisp  
  
  
Winry studied the paper in her hand carefully, reading Rose’s flowing script as she worked.  
  
 _“Once you’ve got the mixture set, roll it into balls about the size of your palm, then roll them in the flour mix and flatten them.  They don’t have to be flat as pancakes, maybe about a half inch thick.  Too thin and they’ll be too hard, and too thick and they’ll burn on the outside but the inside will be mushy.  You want crispy outside and fluffy inside.”_  
  
Rose’s variation on traditional Ishvalan ‘ataif’ was supposed to give the body a healthy dose of hunger staving protein while not breaking their food budget month after month.  Winry slipped them into hot oil and fried them up.  As they sizzled in the pan, she took up the letter again.  
  
 _“You can fry the lamb patties in a separate pan while you wait for the ataif.  If Ed’s set on eggs, you can hard boil them.  Hazim prefers the melon mix to eggs, but he did say that while he was in Amestris he became fond of coffee with breakfast.  Here, coffee is treated as a dessert and it’s nothing like the coffee there.  It comes in as many flavors as ice cream and many strengths, too.”_  
  
Winry had made a fruit salad to serve with the meal, lots of melon, strawberries, oranges and bananas.  Finally, breakfast was ready.  She made Ed a plate and called him to the table and watched as he looked on her handiwork with surprise.  
  
“What’s this?” he asked as he sat down.  “It smells delicious!”  
  
She took a honey dripper and drizzled golden sweetness over the ataif, then sprinkled almond slivers over that.  “I told Rose how you were eating us out of house and home, and she suggested a breakfast like what she feeds to Hazim.”  
  
“Hazim…” he said furrowing up his brow and reaching for his fork.  “I guess I’ll never get used to hearing that instead of ‘Scar’.”  He cut a bite from the lamb sausage and popped it in his mouth.  Winry waited anxiously as he chewed, not sure if she’d made the ground lamb mixture just right.  
  
“Damn!” her new husband sighed as he leaned back in his chair.  “This is delicious!  What is this?”  
  
Winry smiled.  “Lamb sausage!  Taste the ataif- the fritters!”  
  
Ed took a bite and all but kissed the plate of food before him.  Instead, he puckered his honeyed lips, offering her a kiss as thanks.  Winry joined him with a plate of her own soon after, chatting about the spices she used as she cracked the shell of her boiled egg.

* * *

  
Hazim looked over his heavily pregnant wife’s shoulder.  “You’re not going to tell them that the anise in the ataif ingredients is an aphrodisiac?”  He chuckled, “You mischief maker.”  
  
Rose grinned.  “Our little one needs playmates.  Best to get them started on making her some.”


	12. Almost Time

**Title:** Almost Time  
 **Author/Artist:** Sonja Jade  
 **Fandom:** Fullmetal Alchemist  
 **Characters/Pairings:** Rose/Scar  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters within this story based on the series Hiramu Arakawa  
 **Summary/Teaser:** Scar thinks his hands are too big to take care of a baby.  
 **Rating:** G  
 **Word Count:** 388  
 **Author’s Notes:** First of all, I apologize for being 2 days behind.  Secondly, OMG THANK YOU [](http://seta-suzume.livejournal.com/profile)[**seta_suzume**](http://seta-suzume.livejournal.com/) FOR MY FIC!!!  Because of you I’ve been so full of Scar/Rose feels ALL DAY, so this is what happened!!  Unbeta’d because I’m behind and in a rush!

  
  


Even now, when Rose’s belly was so large and ready to burst, his hands were gigantic against her.  Scar wondered, not for the first time, how in the world he was going to gently handle a newborn, especially when he was certain the child would fit entirely in his huge palm.  There came a kick, and another one.  He was always amazed at how much power were in those tiny legs, even when her first breath had yet to be taken.

“She’s settling in,” Rose said quietly.  He looked up to find his wife smiling at him.  “Nagila said it won’t be long now.  I’ve dropped and the ache in my hips means it’s almost time.”

Scar returned her smile and looked down at the place on Rose’s body where his first (of many, hopefully) child lay.  He could see those kicks make her body move, and he was in awe of Rose even more.  “Does it hurt when she kicks?” he asked as he gently rubbed her tummy.

“No, not really.  It was worse when she was up high and pressing into my lungs.  It was so hard to breathe a few weeks ago.”  She patted the other side of her stomach while she ran her fingers through her husband’s long silver hair.  “It’s much better now that she’s dropped down.”

“Is there anything she still needs?” Scar questioned, his eyes closed and his ear listening to the heartbeat of his baby.

“No, just to be born is all.”  Rose shifted on the chaise and Scar immediately moved to assist her in whatever way he could.  “I’m fine, dear.  Please don’t worry so much,” she chided.

“How about you?  Is there anything _you_ need?”

Rose smiled at him.  “Just a kiss.”

Now that was something Scar knew he could do, and he raised up from the floor to his knees, kissed her deeply until they parted for air and sighed as he held her cheek in his big hand.  “Anything else you need?”

She giggled.  “Maybe an orange?” she asked.

“Anything for you, my love.”  As he fetched the fruit from the bowl in the kitchen, he realized he would figure it all out with Rose’s help, huge hands or not.  He breathed easier then, and at last felt ready for the birth of his baby girl.


	13. Making Time

**Title** : Making Time  
 **Author** : Sonja Jade  
 **Series** : Brotherhood  
 **Word Count** : 892  
 **Rating** : G  
 **Character(s)** : Rose/Scar, a little OC  
 **Summary** :  
Scar has a lot of things that demand his attention and take up his time  
now that he’s returned to Ishval.  But despite all of his tasks, he  
hasn’t lost sight of what things are the most important to him.  
 **Warnings** : unbeta’d.  The word habiba means ‘beautiful’ in Arabic, and Scar’s  
super secret given name is known only to his wife, and it’s Hazim.  
 **Author's Notes** : Started this originally as a birthday present for [](http://seta-suzume.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://seta-suzume.livejournal.com/)**seta_suzume** , but I thought it would fit this prompt better than the other two ideas I had for it.  
 **Prompt:** Swing

 

Today was not a very good day for Scar.  He’d been in political meetings with Col. Miles and Gen. Mustang all morning, and now he was behind in his other everyday duties.  There was still training and prayers to be done with the warrior monks, counseling the criminals in the small lockdown that served as a jail for Ishval, followed by leading nightly prayers for the community he lived in…  Why did Mustang have to be here now, when it was Scar’s week to train with the monks?

It couldn’t be helped though.  The only person who could have switched with him had every right not to.  Jalaan’s wife had gone into labor at last that very morning, only three weeks behind schedule.  He wouldn’t have asked his friend to trade him places for a moment.

He hurried into his house, just long enough to grab something to eat before heading to the monastery’s practice yard, and of course to check up on his girls.  Though it was blazing hot outside, in the house was a different story- a proper Ishvalan mud home was naturally cool inside, even the upper levels.  It was silent as Scar ascended the steps and peeked into his bedroom.

There on a brightly colored pallet lay his Amestrian wife and their eight week old daughter Sumaya.  They were sleeping peacefully, Sumaya surrounded by pillows covered in woven silk to keep her from rolling away and to keep Rose from rolling over her.  He quietly stepped in to tug their blanket up a little higher, and to his surprise, two big violet eyes fluttered open and focused on his face.

His daughter giggled and began to flail her tiny arms, and he rumbled quietly, “Now, now Sumaya, don’t wake your mama.”

Though he really didn’t have time for this, he _made time_ for it.  He reached down and gathered her up in his huge hands and took her into the kitchen with him.  In his arms, she looked tiny as a biscuit, which only reminded him that he was hungry and really needed to eat something.  He took his baby girl downstairs where the kitchen lay clean and quiet.

“Did you sleep well, _habiba_?” he asked as he reached for the tea kettle hanging above the stove.

Sumaya only grinned toothlessly at him and made little grunting noises of contentment.  Scar tickled her chin and made faces at her until she giggled, then he went back to making tea and finding a bite to eat.  He scrounged up some flat bread, found a jar of dipping oil and snacked on that while he waited for the tea to boil.  “You’re always so happy when you first wake up,” he smiled at her, leaning in to kiss her forehead.  He began to sing a prayer of thankfulness as Rose stumbled into the room, rubbing at her eyes and smiling at the both of them.

“Hazim, if I’d known you were stopping in, I would have cooked,” she said, coming to his side.

Scar smiled at her, his given name a truer endearment than any other goofy moniker she could have hung on him.  He dipped his face to hers and kissed her apology away.  “I wasn’t planning on coming home at all, but I’m certainly glad I did.  It was a blessing to be able to watch my two favorite girls sleeping so peacefully.”

Rose smiled as she stroked Sumaya’s cheek.  She moved to the small refrigerator and pulled out some cheese and more flat bread that Scar hadn’t found.  “It’s not much, but at least it’s a sandwich,” she commented, adding some leftover lamb pieces to the bread.  She slathered on some of the oil he’d been dipping onto the bread scraps and traded the sandwich for their baby.  “I know you’re busy today.  We’ll spend time together tomorrow, now that Gen. Mustang’s gone back home.”

The tea kettle began to sing and Rose quickly strapped Sumaya into the makeshift baby swing that she and another Ishvalan woman had come up with.  It was a sewn canvas seat with lots of braided linen roping to attach it all together and dangling from a wooden A-frame.  Sumaya seemed to love the swaying motions and Rose was already talking about mass producing them, maybe even marketing them in Amestris.  She tended to the tea as Scar kept their little girl busy.

“I don’t want you to rush, but I know you’re behind schedule,” Rose said gently.  “Try not to linger too long, dear.”

He seemed to take huge bites of the sandwich and swallow his tea down in scalding gulps.  Then he wrapped his arms around his wife and kissed her deeply.  “I needed this, thank you,” he said as she tightened her grip on him.  “I’ll try to be home before dark, but I can’t promise that.”

“It’s alright, we’ll be here,” she smiled.

He bent down and stilled the swing, then let Sumaya’s fingers curl around his as she gave him a confused look, as if asking why she wasn’t swinging anymore.  “I’ll see you again soon, _habiba_.  Be good for mama, okay?”  He shook his hands delicately, watching her face light up as he spoke to her.  He chuckled and gave her a kiss on the forehead.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he waved.


	14. Wish You Were Here

**Title** : Wish You Were Here  
 **Author** : Sonja Jade  
 **Series** : Brotherhood  
 **Word Count** : 418  
 **Rating** : G  
 **Character(s)** : Scar (as Hazim)/Rose, recurring OC (Sumaya)  
 **Summary** : As Scar watches his daughter play, he can’t help but imagine a world where his family had survived the Ishvalan extermination and could play along with her.  
 **Warnings** : none  
 **Author's Notes** : When I was a little girl my grandma had a big bucket of beads she used to do macramé with, and some of them were big, some were perfectly round and smooth, some were bumpy, some had ridges, some were square some were oval- all of them in brilliant colors… [These are the beads](http://cdn.dickblick.com/items/607/09/60709-1000-3ww-l.jpg) that Sumaya is playing with and that is what made me think of this prompt- wishing my Grandma were around to show Joey how to make necklaces out of those beads.  No beta because I’m too behind for one!  
 **Prompt:** Daydreams  
[Original post HERE](http://fma-fic-contest.livejournal.com/979114.html)  
  


It’s a sweltering afternoon outside, but inside their mud home, Hazim lounges around the cool sitting room, watching Sumaya attempt to string large beads onto shoelaces.  While his wife is preparing  the ingredients for the night’s dinner, Sumaya makes one colorful necklace after another, proudly showing it off to her Baba before taking them all off and starting over again.  
  
He watches how she chooses the beads, how the carvings and embellishments on them are just as important as the color, and it makes Hazim think of his long passed mother.  He wonders how she would have reacted to his marrying an Amestrian, and a woman who was not a virgin on top of that.  He imagines she would have been forgiving if she had the opportunity to meet Rose- everyone who meets her loves her.  
  
And Sumaya would be so spoiled.  She’d have the finest scarves and jewelry, exquisite dolls, and if the beads were any indication, the finest teacher of crafting in all of Ishval.  His father would’ve been wrapped around his granddaughter’s finger, and he suspects even his brother would be hard pressed to find a girl he liked more than his niece.  
  
They would probably all live together in a bigger mud house, maybe further on the edge of town.  He imagines taking a few weeks every summer and venturing to Amestris to see old friends and show Sumaya the places her Omee and Baba travelled to and lived in, and to show his family how wrong they all were about Amestrians period.  And had Rose’s family still been alive, they’d probably vacation all together somewhere. Maybe somewhere that Sumaya would never forget, like the mountains near Briggs or the jungles of Xing…  
  
“You look a million miles away,” Rose chuckles as she comes to her husband’s side, belly round and glowing with a second child.  
  
“Just wondering how my family would react to my two favorite girls.” He says as he sits up and makes a place for Rose to sit.  
  
“Baba’s favorite?” his daughter asks, her violet eyes wide as she walks over to her parents.  
  
“The two very best girls in the world,” he nods at her.  “I love you both very much.”  
  
“Love Baba too!” she chirps, kissing his cheek before going back to play with her beads.  
  
Rose puts her arm around him and smiles.  “I think we would have all gotten along just fine.”  
  
“Me, too,” he replies as his big hand rests on her stomach.  “Me, too.”


	15. The Brightest Light

**Title:** The Brightest Light  
 **Author/Artist:** Sonja Jade  
 **Fandom:** Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood  
 **Characters/Pairings:** Scar(as Hazim)/Rose, OCs  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters within this story based on the series Hiromu Arakawa  
 **Summary/Teaser:** Ishvalan traditions are passed down through the women, and Scar’s oldest daughter is about to step into her role in the family.  
 **Rating:** G  
 **Word Count:** 811

 

Hazim grinned proudly as he watched Rose and Sumaya in the kitchen.  They were working together to prepare the holiday feast, and afterward, Sumaya would be the one to light the family’s oil lamp.  
  
The duty of lighting the lamp was traditionally taken on at first by the matriarch of the family.  On Hanai Yomel-Eid, the Ishvalan people celebrated the return of the sun to the sky after Ishvala removed it to punish her people for trying to force her to show her face.  When the woman of the house lit the lamp, it was symbolic of Ishvala’s motherly role to the people.  And when the eldest daughter reached seven years of age, it became her duty to light the lamp.  When the next daughter turned seven, it became her duty, and so on.  Passing the lamp lighting to Sumaya would show her that she was ready to take on the responsibility of caring for others, that one day she might take care of a family of her own and have to make some tough decisions to be sure her own children obeyed not only her rules, but the word of their god.  
  
“Baba, belly hurts,” said his second daughter, Niyana.  “Time to eat?”  
  
He brought her to his lap and kissed the top of her head.  “Not yet, but almost.  Omee and Sumaya are almost finished and then we’ll all break our fasting together, alright?”  She pouted and crossed her arms, and that made him laugh.  “Not much longer!  Go and check on your brother for me.  See if he’s still sleeping- but be quiet in case he is!”  
  
Niyana dashed away to another room while Rose began to pull lamb and potato fritters from a sizzling pan of oil.  Sumaya brought the mashed beans and flatbread to the dining table and she smiled at him.  She was dressed in the traditional garb tonight- a dark blue robe, the striped sash of their clan, and a gold colored headscarf that Rose had to pin up in the back to keep from dangling in the food they were making.  
  
“It smells wonderful!” he praised.  
  
“Oh, Baba,” she said, blushing.  “You’re just saying that because you’re starving!”  
  
“Sumaya, you know I don’t lie.  It really does smell great- and I bet it tastes even twice as good as that!”  She gave him a shy smile and went back to the kitchen, fetching a kettle of fresh tea and a gourd of coconut milk.  Rose brought the platters of lamb and rice to the table just as Niyana returned from the children’s bedroom.   
  
“Is Rasu still asleep?” Rose asked as she grabbed cups for everyone.  
  
“Yep!” Niyana chirped, reaching for a piece of flatbread.  Hazim gave her a stern look and she quickly withdrew her hand.  
  
“Let him sleep,” he said.  “He’ll eat when he’s ready,” he gestured to his wife as he took his place at the head of the table.  “For now, let us pray.”  
  
He sang a long prayer over the meal, blessing the preparers who brought the meal to the table, the farmers who brought the food from the earth, the smiths who created the cook wear, and giving thanks to Ishvala for another safe year in their growing home.  He asked for their blessings to continue and for the memory of Hanai’s journey to bring them closer together as a family and as a community, and then ended the prayer and declared the fast over.  They dug in hungrily and ate with a deeper appreciation than usual.  
  
Rasu toddled bleary eyed into the room, clutching his blanket and sucking his thumb.  His dark gray hair stuck up in spots on his little head and Hazim reached for his only son.  He sat him in his lap as Sumaya poured some coconut milk into his baby cup.  The family finished their dinner and moved to the front window, where the lamp sat on an altar decorated with sun shapes and decorative slips of paper with the story of Hanai’s journey written in calligraphy.  
  
Sumaya carefully lit a blessed smudge stick in the kitchen fire and brought it to the altar.  She touched the smoking herbs to the wick and blew slowly.  When the wick caught and began to flicker with a flame, she sang a short prayer over it.  Hazim bent down and hugged her, her mother lovingly patting her cheek.  
  
“Such a wonderful job, Sumi.  You did wonderful tonight, Ishvala is surely pleased.”  
  
She shyly smiled at him.  “Thank you, Baba.”  
  
He kissed the top of her head, then kissed Rose.  “Your Omee did a wonderful job teaching you all about it.  You should thank her as well for all her help.”  
  
They watched the lamp burn for a few moments, lighting their home on the longest night of the year, a symbol of Ishvala’s love made visible.


	16. The Simple Satisfaction of Snow

**Title:** The Simple Satisfaction of Snow  
 **Author/Artist:** Sonja Jade  
 **Fandom:** Fullmetal Alchemist  
 **Characters/Pairings:** Rose/Scar (as ‘Hazim’), their children  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters within this story based on the series by Hiromu Arakawa  
 **Summary/Teaser:** Gen. Armstrong invites Scar and his family to the Briggs mountain to celebrate the New Year, and it’s the first time his children have ever seen snow.  
 **Rating:** G  
 **Word Count:** 707  
  
  
“Baba?” his youngest, Rasu, asked.  “Is Gen. Armstrong a nice lady?”  
  
Hazim chuckled to himself.  “I find her to be fair and just, though I’m not sure if ‘nice’ is a word that I would use to describe her.”  He patted his son’s head.  “That’s not to say she isn’t a good person, just that she’s a bit serious most of the time.”  
  
They were on a train journeying ever northward, on their way to spend a week at the mountainside fortress of Briggs.  The good General had invited them up after learning from Col. Miles that her scarred friend’s children had never seen snow before.  In her invitation, she’d written that Briggs had more than enough snow for three children to play in and insisted he bring the whole family up for New Year’s.  
  
Niyana, his middle child, squirmed in her seat.  “Are we there yet?”  
  
“Soon,” Rose promised.  “Maybe another hour, two tops!”  
  
“Why does it take so long to get there?” she groaned, sliding down into the seat as if her backbone had turned to jelly.  
  
Travelling with children was hard on everyone, but Hazim was grateful that Rose always seemed to know how to handle each child in the best way possible.  She reached over and plopped several colorful threads into Niyana’s lap.  “Why don’t we practice braiding together?  It’ll pass the time, and then you’ll have a nice bracelet to wear when we get there!”  
  
That did the trick.  Soon enough, Niyana was happily engrossed in trying to weave herself a new piece of jewelry.  It was quiet in the cabin, and Hazim closed his eyes, taking what rest he could.  But they were opened again soon enough when his oldest child gasped.  
  
“Look!  Snow!”  
  
Sumaya was quickly crowded by her brother and sister as they pressed their faces to the cold glass.  White flakes began to lazily drift past the window, and the longer they looked, the more snow began to fly past.  
  
“It’s almost like a sandstorm!” Sumaya breathed, jaw hanging open as she watched the landscape begin to turn whiter and whiter with each mile they travelled.  
  
“Omee?  Are we gonna ride the snow dunes?” Rasu asked.  
  
Rose grinned.  “They’re called ‘drifts’ when they’re made of snow, sweetie.  You call them ‘dunes’ when they’re made of sand.”  
  
“Oh.  Well, are we gonna ride on ‘em?”  
  
“I’m sure Gen. Armstrong has some sleds of some kind waiting for you.”  She leaned in toward them.  “Did you know you can make snowballs and throw them at one another?”  The children’s eyes went wide as they asked for details and Rose was glad to give them.  “When I was a child, we would build little fortresses and attack each other with buckets full of snowballs!  And if you get tired of that, you can use a box and make an igloo to play in!”  
  
“Oh, Omee, you’ll have to show us how!” Sumaya gushed.  “It sounds like so much fun!”  
  
“It is, but you have to be careful to stay warm and dry, or else you can catch a cold.”  
  
Hazim winked at Rose.  “And if you’re out too long, your nose will get frostbite and fall off!”  
  
Niyana put her hands on her hips and turned to face him.  “That’s not true, Baba!  You’re just saying that!”  
  
“No, he’s right,” Rose gently corrected.  “But that’s why you wear a scarf over your face, to keep that from happening.”  
  
Finally, they arrived at the station in North City.  The children watched their mother slowly descend the icy steps, showing them how to keep from slipping.  Once on the ground safely, their hands all plunged into the snow.  
  
“It’s so cold!” Niyana squealed.  
  
“It’s like the opposite of home!” Sumaya observed.  “A desert made of ice!”  
  
Rasu quickly figured out how to mold a ball of the stuff and flung it at Niyana’s head, and an impromptu snowball fight had begun.  Hazim smiled at his children, watching what few passersby stop and watch them as well, realizing their dark skin and red-violet eyes meant this was likely their first encounter with the stuff.  
  
But once he got smacked in the chest with a snowball, he abandoned his observations to join in the battle.


	17. A New Years Vacation

**Title:** A New Year’s Vacation  
 **Author:** Sonja Jade  
 **Series:** Brotherhood  
 **Word Count:** 957  
 **Rating:** G  
 **Characters:** Ed/Win, their children, Rose/Scar (as Hazim), their children  
 **Summary:** Rose wants to show her half Ishvalan children what New Year’s is like in Amestris, and thankfully the Elrics live close enough that they can make a family trip out of it.  
 **Warnings:** none  
 **Author’s Notes:** These are typical German/Austrian traditions that I can recall my great grandmother telling me about as a child in Germany. The lead one is called Bleigießen (blay-GEESE-sen) and the other is called Feuerzangenbowle (FOY-er-ZAHN-gen-BOWL-luh), and is a homemade drink kinda like wassail except it’s made from mulled wine instead of apple cider.  You catch a cone of rum soaked sugar on fire overtop the mulling pot and the melted caramelized sugar drips into the punch.  
 **Prompt:** July prompt- Amestrian Holidays  
  
  
“Alright, kids!” Winry called as she brought a tray of lead ingots and a pillar candle to the coffee table in the living room.  “Let’s play Lucky Lead!”  She smiled as James, Sara and Conrad led Rose’s children over to participate in the traditional game.  Rose, pregnant with her fourth child, joined them as well, smiling wide as she nimbly got down on her knees.  
  
“Oh, yes!  I remember this, too!  Gosh, it’s been years since I’ve done it though.”  She reached for one of the ingots, showing it to Sumaya, Niyana and Rasu.  “See, what you do is pick one of the lumps that you think is the best, and then we melt it down and pour it into this bowl of water.”  
  
“And then what?” Niyana asked, looking over at her mother with wide eyes.  
  
Rose took the old tarnished spoon on the tray and placed the lead on it, holding it over the candle as they all watched it melt down.  “When we pour it in, the water cools it immediately.  Whatever shape is left behind at the bottom is supposed to predict what kind of year you’ll have.”  
  
Sumaya edged closer to the table to watch. “Kind of like when they read tea leaves back home?”  
  
Winry replied, “Yes, just like that.  But we use lead on New Year’s because lead isn’t really that precious of a metal, it’s very easy to melt, and who knows what grand things a poor little lump of lead can tell us?”  She told them what different shapes to look for and what they meant, and that getting a ball was the best shape to get.  “A ball means good luck will just roll your way!”  
  
Now thoroughly engrossed in the game, all six children watched as Rose closed her eyes as if she were making a wish, then poured the melted lead into the bowl of cool water, watching it bubble and steam for a moment before it cleared away to allow them see into the bottom.  
  
“What did you get, Omee?” Rasu asked.  
  
Rose reached in and grabbed the shape, shaking the water off.  Turning it this way and that, she scrunched her face up in confusion.  “I think it kind of looks like a fish with a hat on…  What do you think, Winry?”  
  
Winry took the lead in her fingers, peering at it with the eyes of an artisan craftsman.   Finally she settled on an orientation.  “If you hold it like this, it looks like a bird sitting on a nest.  That’s pretty appropriate since we already know there’s another baby on the way.”  She passed it back to Rose.  “I bet it means you’re going to have a safe and easy delivery.”  
  
Rose rubbed at her belly, smiling.  “I hope so.  Guess we’ll find out around the end of March, won’t we?”  
  
Winry chuckled.  “And I’ll be showing by then!  So- who wants to go next?”  
  
The two mothers decided to pick a number and whoever got closest would go first.  James ended up lucking out, and he chose an ingot that was already in the shape of a ball.  
  
“It’s gotta increase my chances, right Pop?”  
  
Ed, who was busy in the kitchen preparing the Fire Punch on the stove, called back, “Sure, son!”  
  
James carefully held the smelting spoon over the candle as the other children looked on, then he poured the metal into the water.  He passed it around to everyone, saying it looked like a dog, and that meant they would be getting another dog soon.  Winry calmly told him they would have a whole year to find that out and to not lose patience if it didn’t happen right away.  After that, the children went in order of age, with Winry finishing up the pack and tagging Ed and Hazim to make theirs so she could the supplies away.  
  
Then, it was Ed’s turn to mesmerize them with the cool beverage he’d been working on since they sat down to dinner.  He sat the strange traditional punch bowl down on the table and asked their guests to come join him as he lit the sugar cone.  
  
“Now, you kids can’t drink this normally because it’s made of alcohol, but when we set it on fire, the alcohol goes away.”  He lit the cone of rum soaked sugar lying on its special tray over the punch and the kids oohed and awed.  “In about twenty minutes, this will all be melted down into the punch, and then we can have a mug of it while we set some fireworks off outside!”  
  
Rasu got a little too close to the flaming sugar and Hazim whisked him quickly up in his arms.  “Let’s not singe your eyebrows away just yet, son.”  
  
Niyana threw her arms around her mother.  “Omee, thank you so much for bringing us here!  Amestris is so much fun!”  
  
Rose patted her head and smiled down at her.  “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, sweetie.  I’m glad to be able to share some of my traditions from when I was a girl with you all.”  She beamed at Ed and Winry.  “Thank you so much for inviting us.”  
  
“No bother at all,” Ed replied as he squeezed Winry.  “We’ve got the room and the kids love having friends to play with.”  
  
“Maybe we could make this a new tradition,” Winry suggested.  “New Year’s Eve together with our foreign friends and relatives, get Al and Mei and the twins in on the festivities as well.”  
  
“I think,” Hazim said as he kissed Rose’s cheek, “that’s the best tradition of all- spending time with loved ones.”  
  
They all agreed as they watched the blue flames consume the punch’s sugar cone.


	18. A Song for Sleeping

**Title:** A Song for Sleep  
 **Author:** Sonja Jade  
 **Series:** Brotherhood  
 **Word Count:** 280  
 **Rating:** G  
 **Characters:** Rose/Scar (as Hazim)  
 **Summary:** Rose finds herself falling asleep as Hazim sings to the baby growing in her belly.  
 **Warnings:** flufffffffff  
 **Author’s Notes:** I’ve been having ScaRose feels all day. **[Here is a link](https://youtu.be/JdvghxqsWyM)** to the lullaby in the fic.

Moonlight floods through their bedroom window, and Rose smiles down at her husband.

“ _Nami, nami, ya sah hiri. Dack ha tu fuah no ha siri_ ,” he sings quietly to her belly. His head rests near her hip as he sings a lullaby to the child growing inside her, their fourth, another son from what Mei Chang had told them. Hazim places a kiss on the silver and pink stripes that cross her skin from where their other children had lain in her body as he continued to sing.

The tune is very gentle and calming, and Rose finds her eyelids drooping. Her hand had been drifting through Hazim’s long silver hair, but now her strokes falter occasionally as sleep threatens to pull her under.

Her husband moves, still singing in the darkness, this verse talking about selling lemons in the summer to have clothing for the winter. He gathers her up in his arms, carrying her the way she had carried their own babies as infants. She’s always been so small compared to him. Rose curls into his warmth and pats his bare chest.

“ _Ibpebek, jaan_ …” she murmurs drowsily, her eyes closing as she gives up trying to stay awake.

She feels Hazim chuckle deep in his chest more than she hears him. “I love you, too,” he says as he kisses her temple. He sits down in their bed and cradles her even closer. Whispering, he says, “But it’s _ipeb- **ak** _ when you say it to me or Rasu, or our new little boy.”

Rose isn’t sure if she corrects herself or not. The Ishvalans say that sleep is a rose, and she is lost in the garden at last.


	19. Overdue

**Title:** Overdue  
 **Author:** Sonja Jade  
 **Series:** Brotherhood  
 **Word Count:** 725  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Characters:** Rose/Scar (as Hazim), OCs  
 **Summary:** Their second child does not want to come out. The midwife has some suggestions- none of which particularly excite Rose.  
 **Warnings:** No beta, no time!  
 **Author’s Notes:** Part of my Desert Rose collection, but you don't need to read that to get this.  
 **Prompt:** Stubborn  
  
  
  


Nagila was as old as the desert and had been birthing babies since she was thirteen years old. When her brow creased with worry, Rose began to worry too.

“You're nowhere near ready, child,” she said, voice concerned as she wiped her hands on a fine linen towel. “This far along, your opening should be widening some. I expected your waters to be broken last week, but you're as closed up as you were four weeks ago.” The old woman sat down on a stool and let Hazim help Rose back to a sitting position. Sumaya played quietly on the rug near the stove as if nothing of importance were happening just behind her. Rose's hand rested on her swollen belly as she wondered what could be holding up the arrival of their second daughter.

“What do we do now?” she asked as Hazim's fingers rubbed at the back of her neck.

The old woman stood and hobbled over to a shelf, grabbing two bottles and bringing them back. She handed them to Hazim and sat down once again. “I want you to take a spoonful of castor oil once everyday for three days. If nothing happens after that, start taking it two times a day. If by the fifth day there's still nothing, take it three times a day until your labor begins.”

Castor oil… Rose grimaced. “Better sooner than later, then.”

“This one is evening primrose oil. You need to apply it to the mouth of your womb twice a day. It's probably best to have Hazim do it.” She demonstrated with two leathery old fingers what to do, and her scarred husband nodded, even as the tips of his ears reddened in embarrassment. “The act of love is another option. When you reach your satisfaction, it can help stimulate the muscles to begin labor.”

“I feel as big as my house, Nagila,” Rose said with a tired laugh. “I don't think I'm in the mood for that much activity.”

Nagila shrugged. “Hard to say how much longer it's gong to be if you don't try something. Maybe you should go to the Amestrian clinic and see what they have to offer for a solution.”

Rose shook her head, swinging her swollen legs over the side of the exam bed. “I'll use the oils. You've been doing this a long time, and I trust you.” She called out to Sumaya and the little girl got cheerfully to her feet with her toys and came to her mother.

“Yana coming?” she asked with a smile.

Hazim grinned at her as he picked her up. “No, Niyana is still in Omee's tummy. Hopefully she'll come out soon, though.”

Nagila got to her feet to show the family to the door. “The oils should be enough, but don't rule out the other thing either.” She patted Sumaya's cheek. “I'm sure you can find someone to watch this little jewel for an hour or so.”

They thanked the old woman for her time and said they'd be back when Rose's labor began. Sumaya climbed onto her father's back, slipping into the cloth seat tied around his chest and continued playing with her doll and soldier figure along Hazim's broad shoulders.

“Anything I can do, jaan?” he asked in his deep voice.

Rose giggled. “Drink the castor oil in my place!” He made a face at her suggestion and she laughed harder.

“We could give the third option a try, after Sumaya's asleep.” His voice betrayed him- she could tell how hopeful he was that she would agree. After all, it had been quite some time since their last encounter. He even discretely suggested that she wouldn't be responsible for any part of it, that he would see to everything.

“It's a lot better than castor oil, anyway,” he reminded her.

Rose sighed as she agreed. “But you'll have to do just about all of it. I'm too big to be much help.”

“Don't worry,” he said as he took her hand and squeezed. “I'll be sure to handle everything.”

Hazim handled everything so well that Rose was in labor the next morning, having only taken one dose of the castor oil and one application of the primrose oil. Niyana was born later that evening in the fading rays of sunset, with eyes as red as the sun.


	20. Sumaya's Conviction

**Title:** Sumaya’s Conviction  
**Author:** Sonja Jade  
**Series:** Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood  
**Word Count:** 938  
**Rating:** G  
**Characters:** Scar, his oldest daughter Sumaya, OCs  
**Summary:** It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood- too beautiful to let some bullies ruin the afternoon.  
**Author’s Notes:** Written for Father’s Day.  Also, Kyai is a title given to ‘priests’ in a mosque who call the people to prayer five times a day.  I’ve based a lot of this universe on Arab culture and figured Scar is spending most of his time at the monastery, this is probably the closest thing to a real title I can give him.

* * *

 

The weather was unseasonably cool, and Hazim grinned to himself as he watched the citizens of Ishval enjoying the mid-summer reprieve from the oppressive heat.  Local women took time to sit by the wells and chat a bit, laughing and gossiping like gaggles of geese.  The market stalls were full of people lingering a little longer than usual as they caught up with friends and the merchants themselves.  Children scampered happily in between the adults, out of school for the day and enjoying the afternoon.  But his grin fell away at the sound of a familiar voice.

“Stop calling me that!”

Hazim knew the sound of his oldest daughter by the phrase she’d shouted.  She’d warned her sister not to call her ‘Moo-maya’ so many times that the very phrase she’d yelled out was ingrained in his mind.  Instead of going on to the monastery, he discreetly made his way to where her voice had come from.

Just behind the market vendors was a residential street, one where some of Sumaya’s friends lived.  He found her standing with her fists clenched, her face scrunched up into a scowl as the boy children laughed at her.

“Why not?  You _are_ a half-breed!” the one with the missing tooth said.

The taller one crossed his arms and said, “My brother said the only reason your ba-ba married your omee is because only a stupid Amestrian would find a man with a big fat scar across his face attractive.  If he didn’t have that dumb scar, he would’ve been able to marry a _real_ Ishvalan and you wouldn’t be a half-breed.  So don’t blame us for pointing it out to you, blame your parents for making you!”

Hazim was about to say something when Sumaya’s friend reminded them that in the eyes of Ishvala, anyone who lived by her laws was considered Ishvalan, and that maybe he should go home and brush up on his scripture.

“Still, how does it feel to know your omee’s people nearly exterminated your ba-ba’s people?  That your omee’s people nearly exterminated _all_ of your friends and neighbors?”  The other boy mentioned that if she only had red eyes that she might be able to pass as full Ishvalan, and that maybe she should blind herself.

Hazim listened to them laugh as his blood boiled.  He stepped closer, ready to jerk the bullies up by their shirts and haul them home-

“Ishvala teaches us that war is inevitable.  Disagreements of all kinds will come and go until the end of time, good people will be hurt, evil people will live on, and people on both sides will be caught in the middle, always.  Omee and Ba-ba put aside their differences to make peace, and in that peace they found Ishvala’s greatest gift- love.  If I am a child born of love, then I am a child born of Ishvala.”  She stood straight and held her head high.  “I carry inside me the best parts of both Amestris and Ishval.  If that makes me a half-breed, then I am proud to be one.  You cannot shame me for something I am proud of.”

“Then why whine about being called a half-breed then?” laughed the boy with the missing tooth.

“Because I’m more than _just_ a half-breed.”  She pointed to the pin on her school jacket, signifying her role in the community leadership program.

“And because,” Hazim said as he stepped out into the sunshine, “it shows how lacking your manners are.”

Both boys stood staring at him with wide eyes and pale faces.  “K-k-yai Hazim!  We were just-”

Hazim held his hand out to stop him.  “I heard everything.  And I want you to tell your equally rude brother that I married an Amestrian because she is the kindest woman I have ever met.  I hope in the future, you won’t be so close minded as to limit your relationships based on what nationality others are.”

“Yes, sir!” the answered in unison.

“Go home before I tell your mothers.”

They took off like bandits down the street, their feet beating up dust as they ran.  The onlookers from the houses lining the street tucked their heads back inside.  Hazim asked his daughter if she was okay as he squeezed her shoulder.

Sumaya nodded.  “I’m okay.  They both come from families who are very intolerant of foreigners.  They can’t help their ignorance.”

“Ishvala would be proud of how you handled yourself,” he said as he offered her a hug right there in the street.  “I know I’m very proud of you.”

She sighed against him, her little arms wrapped tight around him.  “I just remember all the stuff you taught me about not hating others; that hate is what started the war between my heritages, and then I tell anyone who’ll listen.”  She pulled back and looked up at him.  “People can disagree without hating each other right?”

“Of course.  We do it all the time as family, and also with friends.  Hate is what can annihilate nations, not disagreements.”  He nodded at Sumaya’s friend.  “I’ll be sure to tell your parents what a good friend you are, Meteri.  Do you want to walk home with us?”  The young lady declined the offer, waving goodbye and leaving Sumaya and Hazim standing in the street. 

“It’s such a nice day, why don’t we go by old man Julah’s stall and see if he’s got any ataif left,” Hazim said with a smile.

She smiled and took his hand, just like when she was little, and together they walked to see about getting a sweet treat on a beautiful day.


End file.
